


Happy Birthday

by anythingbutplatonic



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, M/M, Shadowhunter!Klaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 19:19:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4112104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anythingbutplatonic/pseuds/anythingbutplatonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I blame the beautiful amazing brilliant piece of literature that is City of Heavenly Fire by Cassandra Clare for this. In fact, the entire Mortal Instruments series is amazing. So have some Shadowhunter!Klaine, vaguely based on Jace and Clary from said series.</p><p>Originally posted on Tumblr June 4th 2014.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Birthday

Kurt barely remembered his mother. Whisps of memories would sometimes come to him, triggered by a song or a smell: his mother laughing as she chased him round the tiny garden they’d had back then, brought on by the smell of fresh-cut grass; the soft fabric of her clothes, pulled to the front of his mind as if by a hook by the edge of a blanket tickling his chin. 

But a few months ago, the memories of her had changed. Now, in his mind’s eye, whenever he thought of her, he saw her as she truly was; her skin, marked with dozens of faint white scars, the scars left behind by runed Marks. The skin of a Shadowhunter, a warrior - or at least, she had been, before she’d died. It had been cancer, a regular, normal,  _mundane_  illness. The way his father told it, she had been exiled from the the world of the Shadowhunters precisely because she’d married his father, who was not a Shadowhunter. It was forbidden for a mundane to know about the Shadow World, about the existence of demons and angels. 

All that had changed when he’d met Blaine five months ago, completely by accident.

 

_He’d been walking alone, sometime between 10 and 11 at night - he couldn’t remember, now, the exact time - and had had the sudden feeling that someone was following him._

_He’d sped up, pulling his coat tighter around himself and burying his nose into his scarf, eager to get home as soon as possible and away from the threat. But the footsteps he swore he could hear behind him had sped up, too, and he could hear the sound of the unknown person’s breath, panting as they fought to keep pace with Kurt, whose heart had been hammering in his chest by this point, fast and hard, making his chest ache._

_On a whim, he’d thrown himself into an alley between two rows of houses, pressing himself flat against the cold, damp wall, hoping whoever it was would just pass by the mouth of the alley and not see him._

_Only, they didn’t. The figure stepped into the alley, and sniffed - there was no other way to describe their actions - the air, before turning his head in Kurt’s direction._

_Kurt saw violet skin, yellow, hawk-like eyes, and rows of jagged teeth under a black hood before he opened his mouth to scream._

_And found himself thrown sideways, onto the hard ground, as another figure - this one smaller, slighter, but also in dark clothes - moved between Kurt and….whatever it was that had followed him into the alley. Sitting up on his elbows and massaging his ribs where they’d come into contact with the ground, Kurt squinted in the dim light._

_The first figure wasn’t hiding itself any more. Its hood was thrown back to reveal a monstrous - something, some kind of creature, with purple skin covered in pocked red sores, ears like a bat’s, and yellow hooded eyes. They didn’t have pupils; the irises were simply a darker shade of yellow._

_It bared its teeth, grinning - if you could have called it a grin - and stepped forward. Kurt saw purple hands, curled into claws, underneath the sleeves of the jacket it wore._

_What the hell is going on?_

_To his surprise, Kurt didn’t even feel afraid. Not really. What he felt was more bewilderment than fear._

_“Don’t touch him.”_

_It was the first time the figure in front of him had spoken. He - for it was a boy, or a man, but the voice sounded young - had a low voice, melodic and smooth; but it concealed a threat, a warning to the creature who had followed Kurt here, probably with the intention of harming him._

_The creature hissed, spitting flecks of bluish drool. The figure in front of Kurt didn’t flinch._

_“I’m guessing you’re alone, or you would have called for back-up by now,” the boy continued. “which will make this very easy for me, and not very fun for you.”_

_The boy suddenly lunged forward, and there was a flash of something bright - the edge of a knife, glinting in his hand - and the purple-skinned creature gave a piercing howl. Something thick and black spattered the ground not far from Kurt’s line of sight. Blood? It smelled strong, like petrol, with an acidic undertone. It burned Kurt’s nose._

_Another flash of the boy’s blade in Kurt’s peripheral vision - and Kurt had to use every ounce of strength in his body not to scream again. The creature’s head was no longer attached to its body, its neck a purple stump spouting more of the black blood-like substance. It wobbled on the spot, before crumpling from the knees down, crashing to the ground in a pool of dark blood and_

_\- it vanished. Just like that. As if it was never there._

_Kurt let out a harsh breath he didn’t even know he was holding, and then his breath was coming in quick, shallow pants, his hands starting to shake. As if his mind had been delayed in processing the scene before him, but was now catching up, every detail replaying itself in his head._

_“What the_ hell _was that?” he gasped, finding his voice, which came out raspy, as if he hadn’t used it for a long time._

_The boy’s knife clattered to the ground, his whole body going stiff. He didn’t turn around, but Kurt knew he was speaking to him when he said, “You can see me?”_

_“Of course I can, I’m not blind.” Kurt replied. “You’re right in front of me. What did you expect?”_

_“You’re not supposed to be able to see me. Not when I’m wearing a glamour rune. Which means you have the Sight."_ The Sight for what?  _Kurt thought, when the boy finally turned around to face him for the first time since he’d knocked him to the ground._

_He had to admit, the boy was cute. Dark hair, hazel eyes, smooth brown skin that was covered in what looked like tattoos, black shapes covering his bare arms and the exposed triangle of skin at his chest, up the side of his throat, on the backs of his hands. He looked like the photos Kurt had seen of African tribal leaders, painted in bright colours, the shapes symbolizing different things - happiness, strength, sadness. But the boy’s tattoos didn’t look quite the same._

_"Do you?” the boy asked quietly. “Have the Sight, I mean.”_

_“I have no idea what that_ is _, "Kurt said, feeling annoyed. "What just_ happened _? What did you do to that - that_ thing _?”_

_“It was a demon. Not a very clever one - I was able to follow it pretty easily. As soon as I saw it go after you, I knew there was going to be trouble, and I had to step in. It’s part of my job."_

_"Which is?"_

_The boy smiled gently. "I’m a demon hunter. I find and kill demons so that they can’t harm other people.”_

_“People like me?"_

_"Yes. People like you. We call them mundanes. But I don’t think you’re a mundane at all. I think you’re like me.”_

_This was all too much for Kurt, who started to stand up but found his knees to be too weak. The boy, abandoning his fallen knife, rushed to help him, and Kurt could smell his cologne, and the clean cotton of the black shirt he wore. Up close, the tattoos on his skin looked even more impressive. He had scars, too, pale and silvery, overlapping each other. Kurt wondered how he’d got so many._

_“If you’re going to help me up, I should at least know your name.” Kurt said, clutching the front of the boy’s shirt for support. He hated how weak he felt. His chest and sides ached, and the sensitive skin on his legs burned, no doubt having been scraped by his fall._

_“Maybe it’s better if you don’t.” The boy was suddenly serious. “I’ve already risked a lot by telling you what I do. It’s bad enough that you can see me when you’re not supposed to be able to.”_

_“But you said,” Kurt replied, “you said that I was like you. What does that mean? I don’t even know you. I’ve never seen you before. And I’ve never seen anything like that - that_ _monster before, the one you decapitated right in front of me.”_

_“That monster was going to hurt you. I got rid of it. It’s gone back to its home dimension. That’s what happens when demons die.”_

_“I want to know your name.” Kurt demanded._

_The boy sighed, then laughed, mostly to himself. “Fine. You already know too much anyway.” He paused. “I’m Blaine. Happy?”_

_“I’m Kurt. And yes, I am. Now I know what name to ask for if I want to find you. You know, if any more demons come after me.”_

_“They won’t.”_

That had been five months ago.

Now, Kurt stood in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom at the Institute in Lima. On the outside, it looked like an abandoned warehouse. Inside, it was a church that had been converted into residence for Shadowhunters, those who hunted and killed demons in order to protect the mundane world from danger. Kurt was one of them, now.

Today was his birthday, and Blaine had promised him a gift. He had to meet him in five minutes in order to receive it. 

He’d swapped his black Shadowhunter gear for jeans and a bright blue button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Black Marks, the permanent runes that every Shadowhunter had, stood out against his pale skin. 

Blaine met him at the end of the hallway, grinning from ear to ear. He was also in short sleeves, and the brightly-coloured pants he liked to wear when he wasn’t in gear, the hems rolled at the ankles in a way Kurt had always thought of as endearing. It was a definite change from the way Blaine looked on a mission, all in black with the perfect poker face, armed with knives and swords and all manner of different weapons and, usually, spattered with blood - both demon and human. 

“Happy birthday! How does it feel to be a whole year older?”

“The same as it did last year,” Kurt quipped. “But thanks.”

“C'mon, I have your gift in my room.” Blaine said, gesturing Kurt to follow him. Blaine’s room was off one of the other hallways in the Institute, a little way away from Kurt’s. Kurt followed him, watching the way the muscles in his back and shoulders moved as he walked. His mouth was dry, and he swallowed several times.  _Now is not the time_. 

On Blaine’s bed was a package wrapped in red paper with a gold ribbon tied in a bow around it. The label stuck to it said  _Kurt :)_  in Blaine’s neat handwriting. 

“Go ahead,” Blaine said, “open it.”

Kurt, eager to see what was inside, ripped off the paper to reveal a box covered in dark blue silk, which was smooth and cool to the touch. He opened it, and sucked in a breath.

In the box, in a nest of tissue paper, lay a dagger. A bright silver dagger, with an intricately carved hilt, the blade shining in the sunlight streaming in from the window. It was beautiful. Kurt immediately loved it. He had never had a weapon of his own before; he’d always borrowed them from the Institute, or from Blaine. 

“I love it.” Kurt said. “I really mean it, Blaine. I’ve been wanting my own weapon for  _months_. How did you guess?”

“I know you,” Blaine said simply. “I knew what you’d want. And what better gift for a new Shadowhunter than a new weapon?”

Kurt smiled, taking the dagger out of the box, feeling the weight of it in his hand. He turned it over, moved his arm back and forth, getting the feel of it and the way it worked. Any weapon a Shadowhunter used was intended to be an extension of his or her arm, a part of them, to be used as naturally and as expertly as the body itself. That’s what the dagger felt like.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” Kurt carefully put it back in the box. He couldn’t wait to try it out later, in the training room, on the top floor of the Institute. See how many targets he could hit in sequence. He’d never missed a bullseye yet; it was sort of his speciality. 

“There’s something else, too.” Blaine said, an edge of nervousness creeping into his voice. “But it’s not something I can just… _give_.”

“What do you mean?”

Blaine sat down next to Kurt on the bed, the mattress springs creaking as they bent under his weight. He was looking at his feet, his cheeks and the tips of his ears pink. Embarrassed. But what did he have to be embarrassed about?

“I think…I think it’s just better if I show you. If you’ll let me,” Blaine explained, “that is.”

“Of course. Anything. You know that.” Kurt replied, suddenly feeling nervous himself. “So what is this other gift you want to give me? Or rather, show me?”

“This,” Blaine said softly - and leant in to press his lips to Kurt’s, warm and dry but soft, so soft, and Kurt could feel his heart beating in his ears, and the sun was hot on his back as Blaine’s tongue gently teased Kurt’s lips. Kurt opened his mouth and let him in, reaching up to cup Blaine’s jaw. He could feel a couple days worth of stubble under his fingers. 

Kurt wasn’t sure how long the kiss lasted, but by the time Blaine pulled away, his whole body felt like it was thrumming, buzzing happily, in a way he hadn’t experienced before. 

“Happy birthday.” Blaine whispered, his eyes bright and shining. The sunlight made his eyelashes cast shadows across the tops of his cheeks. 

“Wow,” was all Kurt could say. 

“Would you - maybe - want to go on a date sometime? With me?” Blaine asked, sounding breathless. 

“As long as we don’t have to decapitate anything or fight another octopus demon, I would  _definitely_  like to go on a date with you.” Kurt answered. “A non-demon-hunting date.”

“No demons. Got it.” A slow smile spread across Blaine’s face. “How about Italian food?  _Not_  Breadstix.”

“Italian food sounds perfect.”


End file.
